


Old Bones and Shattered Stones

by Tysis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Harry has not had a good time of it, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Suicidal Ideation, Time Travel, Voldie didn't die during the battle of hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tysis/pseuds/Tysis
Summary: Harry never meant to go back to the forest. He never meant to go back in time, but he didn't mean for a lot of things to happen and they did anyway. Why should this be any different?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Old Bones and Shattered Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this to hopefully motivate myself into writing more.

He ached. From head to toe, like every bone in his body was stretched beyond capacity. The war was over. The war was done with and over and gone  ~~ so many are gone ~~ . Hogwarts had burnt, been built and burnt again and Harry was  _ tired _ . He was the Savior, the downfall of Voldemort, had been fighting evil since before he could walk, since he was a child  ~~ but when had he ever really been one ~~ he was the Golden Boy he was… he was… Harry was tired. Merlin’s balls he was tired. 

“I did my duty,” He whispered into a cup of firewhiskey.

“It was my job,” He announced to a reporter, covering his story for the 50th time.

“It wasn’t like anyone else was going to do it,” He confessed to Luna, hidden from sight under the invisibility cloak.

“I should have done more,” He said to a tombstone. And then another. And another. And another. Names blurred and melted together. It was easier to name who was left.

“I am about to die,” He breathed against the old snitch. Wand hidden, back to where it all should have ended. The night mist trickled across his skin, thick and cold and the golden snitch split open, stone still nestled safe inside, placed there by trembling fingers. Back when it all should have ended. Unkempt, grimy hair too long to fully tame spilled over his hands as Harry bowed his head. The Resurrection stone sat dully in his hand. Inanimate. Lifeless. He turned it over. Once. Twice. Thrice. Nothing happened, but pain, lancing down from his scarred shoulder. His fingers spasmed, knuckles grinding and the stone- Shattered. Fragments dug their way into his palm and Harry staggered, bracing against a tree. Shattered. He caught his breath, shakily, shaking. Shattered. He left the woods, shambling towards… anywhere else. The great lake loomed in front of him. His hand was burning. A Great, Black lake. Cold.

A rock turned underfoot. A step back, a slippery patch of moss and Harry fell. Wand forgotten in its holster, heavy robes dragging him under, the light faded, growing ever more distant as he sank into the cool depths. His wounded hand throbbed in time with his heartbeat. The water soothed it, dark and murky as it was, and the need for air never came. He lay, suspended, in the deep lake and- It was so quiet. Sunlight lanced down in fractals of warmth, bathing his face in the soft light and Harry lay there. Peacefully. The need for air never came and Harry slipped away, was stolen away from place and time. The shards of stone throbbed dully, magic reverberating and echoing out to the edges of the lake. A great surge grew and grew and grew and broke upon the threshold of time. And then there were voices, and then Harry opened his eyes to grey skies and a head of black hair hovering above him. Dad? Dead dead dead dead.

Salt tracks stung his cheeks. “I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He reached up as if to brace the sky with his hand, blocking out the sun. Another tombstone another grave- “I should have done more,” He confessed, wracked by years and years of buried debt, “I did my duty but it wasn’t enough, I couldn’t even die properly.”

-

“May you live in interesting times,” James had laughed, books floating, wand out, lounging near the fire of the common room and then.

A body was bobbing in the middle of the lack, gaunt and silent when Sirius had gone for a morning walk. And it was sinking. He dove into the waters, frantically casting every nonverbal spell for floatation he knew. He scrabbled at the dark cloak the body wore and pulled for all his worth to the shore. How was it that you revived people drowning- renovate, enervate, Rennervate! It was for stunners but- once on dry land, Sirius propped the strange man (for it was a man, not a body yet, not cold, not dead not stiff) up and pulled out his wand. Red light flashed. Eyes peeled open slowly, hazed over.

“I couldn’t save him,” The almost corpse whispered, cried. Couldn’t save who? Tears were tracking down the man’s gaunt, hollowed face. No, that wasn’t what was important, what was. Poppy. Hospital wing.

“Just- stay put okay?” Sirius said, dusting off his robes as fast as possible. “Don’t move I’ll be back-”

“-I couldn’t even die properly.”

“-with help.” He hesitated. “I promise I’ll be back?” What were you even supposed to do in this situation? 

“It’s so cold. Luna? Luna, please don't leave, I’m so cold.”


End file.
